The Necessary Grace to Fall
by LisaBelleLove
Summary: Hermione has experienced something terrible, and Severus must find out who did it to her.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is going to be very very dark. Please be warned.

Her vision had gone bright orange.

And then red.

And then a strange brownish color that didn't make much sense. Red made sense. Black would have been nicer. So far, she didn't regret her decision to unstopper every potion in the bathroom cabinet at Number Twelve Grimmauld place. She was ok with her decision to swallow every single one of them. What she did regret was neglecting to ward the door. She regretted not silencing the room so that no one would hear the _thud_ of her fall to the floor. No one would hear the gurgling noises as she vomited and choked and struggled to breath. No one would hear her dying.

As it were, she did forget to do all of those things, and she heard the door swing open, felt it hit her in the foot. She heard the gasping sobs of her younger friend Ginny and heard her knees hit the floor as she dropped down next to her. She felt Ginny's hands flutter over her face, her hair, and heard her scream for help. But there was no one else in the house. Hermione had chosen her timing specifically, but Ginny had woken up earlier than usual this morning.

"Oh, no. Oh, God, Hermione. Oh, no," Ginny sobbed between her screams for help. _No one's going to come,Ginny_ , Hermione wanted to tell her. _No one's here._ But her mouth and her mind seemed to be disconnected and all she could manage was a gurgling sob.

But then Ginny was gone, and a more stern voice replaced her shrill tones. Hermione managed to open her eyes just slightly and fixed on a pair of bottomless black eyes before she felt two fingers shoved into her mouth and down her throat. She rolled onto her side and vomited again. And then again. Until her ribs felt like they might crack and she was sobbing with the effort.

"Stop it," Hermione snapped between sobs. "Let me die. Please, let me die." Those black eyes were back then, and the concern that colored them before was replaced with anger.

"It'd be easy for you, wouldn't it? You're not going anywhere, Miss Granger. Not today." She flinched away from the voice that had criticized her so openly in their Potions classes. She felt his hands scoop her up from the floor.

"Miss Weasley, a wet flannel if you would, and follow me. Mention nothing of this to anyone, do you understand?" Ginny must have nodded because Snape's expression didn't change. Hermione heard the tap running and Ginny's residual sniffles. When the tap turned off, Snape began to move and Hermione was too tired to walked down the hall, up the stairs, and through another door that Hermione was vaguely aware of as his bedroom. Why was he taking her into his bedroom?

She struggled last man that had taken her to his bedroom-Well, she supposed that was the reason she'd taken all of the potions. She was dropped onto the bed where she quickly gathered her witts and scrambled into a sitting position with her knees against her chest, her arms wrapped around her knees. She watched Snape cross the room to a small wooden cabinet on his dresser and pull out a small vial half the size of the standard vial. He was back in front of her quicker than her eyes could register and tipping the vial to her mouth. She twisted away and he growled.

"Weasley, hold the phial. When I tell you, make her drink it." He gripped the back of Hermione's head with one hand and held her nose shut with other. "Now," she heard him say just as she opened her mouth to take a breath. Ginny poured the potion into her mouth and she swallowed impulsively.

"What was that?" Ginny asked timidly.

"It'll counteract everything she took. The idiot." Ginny pressed the cool, wet flannel to Hermione's forehead and Hermione flinched away from her. Ginny frowned and looked to the Professor, who shrugged and turned his back to them to put down the empty bottle.

"Alright, Granger," he said suddenly, spinning back around. "What sort of attention are you looking for now? Looking to gain pitty for higher marks?" Hermione's head snapped up.

"No!" She choked, scrubbing at her face. Seeming to sense a higher form of distress, Snape turned to Ginny and snapped at her to get out. The girl hesitated, but followed direction regardless of her worry. As soon as the door shut behind her, Hermione dissolved into tears. Large, hiccoughing tears that made Snape both incredibly uncomfortable and incredibly concerned. He took a tentative step forward, but didn't come any closer to her than a few feet.

"Granger," he said carefully, and reached out one hand. Before his fingers were even a couple of inches from her shoulder, she gasped, and slapped his hand away.

" _Don't touch me!_ " Her voice was feral, ground out in such a way that was obviously an instinct and not a choice. Snape was not only disturbed that he understood exactly what had happened to her in that moment, but also that it _had_ happened. She scrambled back on the bed, pulling her knees up tightly against her chest and raked her hands through her chaos of hair that seemed even more hellbent on misbehaving than usual.

"Oh, Merlin…" Snape muttered, letting his arm fall back to his side. "Granger, you need to come with me. You need to see a healer-"

"No," she said firmly. "No one can know. No one-no one." He simply stared at her, watched the way she rocked back and forth and fought with her hair. The way she avoided his eyes all together and kept her own fixed on the rumpled bedding before her. Every bit of her posture and expression warned him against approaching her, but he did it anyway. He stepped forward until his shins nearly touched the edge of the mattress, and reached toward her again. Her eyes shot up with such a fierce glare that he almost backed off again. But he wouldn't allow her animalistic stance to deter him.

She had vomit on the side of her mouth, down her chin, and soaked into her t-shirt. Her eyes were red and swollen and her lips were puffy. She actually looked like she'd tried to kill herself, and if she didn't want anyone to know, he first needed to get her and the loo cleaned up, and then he needed to speak to Ginny Weasley.

"Come with me, either way. If someone sees you looking the way you do, you'll have more questions to answer than what I have for you." She considered him for a moment before nodding and taking the hand he hesitantly offered for her. She stood gingerly, wincing. He led her back down the hall, into the bathroom where he'd found her. There was vomit soaking into the bathmat where she'd collapsed, and empty vials scattered across the counter. He felt her cringe away from the door, and lifted his wand to Scourgify the mess. The empty vials righted and stacked themselves neatly on a corner of the vanity. He pulled her into the bathroom, shut the door, and waved his wand again to Ward the room. At the shimmer of his magic, she seemed to relax her stance somewhat, but he noticed her flinch again when he stepped around her to turn the shower on.

-v-

He was only trying to help. Hermione kept repeating those words over and over in her head, but somehow, it wasn't helping. _He's only trying to help. He just wants to help._

 _You thought_ he _was only trying to help, too. You thought_ he _only had your best interest in mind._

 _"Let me show you something, Hermione. Buck-erm-Witherwings is doing really well. I think he misses the three of you. And Hagrid. He's grown since you saw him last! Did you know how big Hippogriffs could get?" Hermione smiled at him, followed him upstairs to the top floor. He had her by the hand, tugging her up the steps and into his bedroom._

 _His bedroom._

 _Hermione's heart jolted in surprise and sudden trepidation. Witherwings had never been kept in Sirius' bedroom. He was kept in his own, larger room down the hall. He shut the door behind them and, before she could think or react, pinned her to it. His hand clamped over her mouth, and he shoved a knee between her legs._

 _"You're perfect, Hermione, you know that?" He murmured in her ear, his voice vastly different now than the conversational tone he'd had before. "You've grown into yourself so well. I've seen you looking, too. I have, haven't I?" She sobbed behind his hand and clamped her eyes shut. His over hand krept down her thigh, cupped under her bum, and spun them around until they both fell-hard-onto his bed. She tried to scramble away, but his fingers caught her thighs, dug in, and held her there. Then he gripped her hips-it hurt-and pulled her back toward him, where he yanked her denims down-_

Hermione shook her head hard, eliciting a harsh intake of breath from the Professor. He stepped away from her then and turned away. She watched him while the shower ran and when he hadn't heard any sound of movement, he glanced at her over his shoulder.

"The shower is for you, Miss Granger. This is all the privacy I'm willing to give you at this time given what you just tried to do." He turned from her again, and she slowly peeled her soiled clothes off, allowing them to drop to the floor before stepping into the steady stream of water. When he heard the shower curtain close, Snape turned around, pointed his wand at the pile of clothes, and cleaned them. They fluffed and folded onto the lid of the loo.

When the tap turned off several minutes later, he turned around again so she could dress and when the ruffling of clothes stopped, he turned to face her again and saw her pulling her hair back into a tight bun at the top of her head.

In seven years, he had never seen her wear her hair in any way other than wild and loose and chaotic around her head. It was startling and disturbing.

He took her by the shoulder and steered her back out of of the bathroom and into his own room. The only protest she gave with a hissed suck of air through her teeth.

 _He's only trying to help. He's only trying to help._

 _But why?_

Hermione sat gingerly in the place she'd occupied previously. She watched him as he sat down in a chair opposite the bed.

"What happened to you?" His voice was demanding, offering no sympathy and accepting no excuses.

"I think you know exactly what happened to me," Hermione replied slowly, careful not to meet his eyes directly. Instead, she stared at a spot on the wall just right of his head.

"You were raped."

"Yes, sir, I was."


	2. Chapter 2

"Who did it?"

"I can't tell you that," Hermione said. Her voice had lost any feral qualities it had possessed before and she sounded back to herself. If herself had run a marathon and then avoided sleep for several days after that. With a wave of his wand and a murmured spell, Severus conjured a tea service. She took the cup offered to her, forgetting to wonder how he knew her tea preferences. She could tell he was holding back several curt words by the way he set his jaw and squared his shoulders. He held his teacup with a little too much tension in his hands, and the leg he'd crossed over one knee in his chair twitched uncharacteristically.

In other words, he was holding back a lot.

She put her teacup carefully on the duvet and pulled her knees back up to her chest, resting her forehead down on them so she didn't have to watch his frustration with her.

"Why can't you tell me?" He asked her after several long seconds.

 _Several reasons_ , she thought. Her mind wasn't organizing its thoughts the way is usually did. Was this trauma? Was this the effect of trauma? How incredibly frustrating and embarrassing. She couldn't think, and what was she without her mind? Nothing. She was nothing.

New tears soaked the knees of her jeans. How would she tell her parents? How would she tell Harry and Ron? How would she explain this to Ginny? Poor, poor Ginny who'd tried to help and couldn't. She had traumatized her friend because she hadn't thought to lock the fucking door.

But her parents. Merlin, she would never be the same little girl she'd been to them before and she didn't know how to tell them why. How would she explain this to her parents?

"Miss Granger," the Professor said, more forcefully this time. "Why can't you tell me?"

"I think," Hermione said softly, avoiding the question all together. "I think I'd like to go home?"

"What?" He asked, seemingly startled. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, and then her legs were lifting her from the bed, carrying her toward the door. She had no idea what she intended to do next, but her hand found the door knob and pulled and-

It swung open. Somehow, she expected it to be locked and she wasn't sure what to do now. Puzzled, she turned to look at him.

"I can't keep you here, Miss Granger." He said simply. "I won't force you to stay here-I won't force you into anything." She gasped involuntarily at his wording."However, I would strongly advise against going home. It isn't safe for you to travel alone in this house, let alone out in the world." He watched the emotions play across her face. First confusion, then shock, then anger, and then resigned sadness.

"Why can't you tell me?" He repeated for a third time, having barely moved a muscle since her move to leave.

"I can't," she whispered to him, hand still on the doorknob. "You would-you wouldn't understand. You couldn't understand." His expression didn't change, but if she hadn't been mistaken, she swore she saw his mouth twitch just slightly in sadness. Sadness was not something she had ever thought she'd see from him.

"You know what they say about assumptions, Miss Granger?" He said in a slow, even tone. Her breath hitched, and if she hadn't been so desperate to avoid being touched, she would have launched herself across the room and thrown herself at him. He hadn't been-

"Close the door, and sit back down. If you promise by threat of Oblivation not to repeat what you've heard, I will tell you why I understand." Chewing her lip nervously, she shut the door and watched him ward it with a flick of his wand. She turned around with her heart in her throat and perched on the edge of the bed again. His eyes never left her face, seeming to take in her every motion, gauging her to see if she could handle what he was about to tell her.

"Do you know anything of the Death Eater initiation?" He asked her slowly. She flinched. Was he admitting to being a Death Eater? Slowly, she met his eyes. He was daring her to accuse him of something. Of being what they always thought he was. Of being evil. She shook her head and looked back down at her lap.

"When one becomes a Death Eater," he continued, his tone hard, "one is encouraged to-take something precious to a woman. You understand what I'm telling you?" He felt ridiculous, essentially playing charades with a girl who had just been thrust unceremoniously into womanhood. Of course she knew what he was talking about.

She wanted to vomit. Hermione found herself on her feet again, a hand on her stomach as though that would quell the nausea that had settled there.

"You're telling me that you raped a woman." She didn't ask, he noticed. This was the exact reaction he had expected from her.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. _Sit down_." She glared at him and instead remained standing. He shook his head at her and blew out an exasperated breath. "I'm telling you that the initiate is expected to perform the act. I refused." She looked as though she might collapse with the suddenness of her relief.

"You refused?" She asked. "You refused, and that's how you know what I'm feeling?" His eyes hardened and he pointed a finger at where she had previously sat on the bed.

"Sit. I'm not finished." She did so, tucking her hands between her knees.

"I refused, and thus had to endure what I declined to do." Her intake of breath would have gone unnoticed had they not been sitting in a silent room. He suddenly found it very difficult to look at her, but still he continued.

"As my punishment, the more _experienced_ members took turns-with me." He couldn't bring himself to actually describe what exactly they did. She would understand well enough what he meant. "My initiation included being-taken-by various members. And then I was able to receive the Mark." She was unable to ask any question (and what questions could she ask, really?) because the front door opened, and shut downstairs, effectively ending their conversation. She heard Harry call for her and Ginny.

Ginny. Severus forgot entirely about needing to speak with her. He stood swiftly, determined to catch her before she found her idiot brother, and opened the door. Hermione watched him, eyes wide.

"Everything that has been discussed in this room stays in this room. Do you understand?" She nodded carefully and stood as well. Back to her daily life.

-v-

"Miss Weasley. A word." The girl froze and turned to face him, pale faced. He turned on his heal and started toward the end of the corridor. When they were sufficiently out of earshot, he turned to face her again.

"Is Hermione ok, sir?" she asked before he could speak up. Her eyes had welled with tears. "I didn't know what to do!"

"If she were not ok, stand assured that we would not be having the discussion we're about to." Her shoulders slumped in visible relief and she dissolved into tears, raising one hand to cover her eyes.

"Calm down, girl, we need to discuss the importance of keeping this quiet. No one can know about this. The Headmaster will be informed, but it ends there. You will not tell your brothers, or your mother. You will not tell a student on the train. You will not even whisper about it to yourself in the quiet of an abandoned corridor. Do I make myself perfectly plain?" She looked ready to protest. Her eyes flashed in defiance, but when he straightened to his full height, she gave in and nodded. "Be supportive," he said this time in a softer tone. "She's been through an ordeal, and I'm not talking about what happened today. She'll tell you in her own time. Just be there for your friend." He left her there to think, sweeping by her and down the stairs into the kitchen where he heard frenzied voices.

He found Hermione standing by the kitchen sink, sipping a cup of water absently, seemingly unaware of the commotion around her. Apparently the twins had devised a sweet that would allow a student to sleep in class. The student would appear to be awake to their peers, but would actually be swimming through dreamland. He groaned inwardly. Just what he needed coming into the new year. Severus stopped himself from crossing the room to her, choosing instead to stay back in the shadows and observe. No one paid her any mind, he noticed. She was just another body meant to be there, to take up space in an already crowded kitchen. Molly occasionally placed a hand on her shoulder or patted her arm as she moved about preparing dinner. He also noticed Ronald stealing glances at her across the room, as well.

"Hey, Hermione!" The idiot boy finally called, startling the girl so severely she wound up swiping her hand down the front of her jumper to rid it of the water she'd spilled. She glared at him as he approached her, but he noticed he was looking at her curiously. He saw the boy's eyes fixed on her hair. Ah, yes. The uncharacteristically tight bun. So he wasn't overthinking her hair. Ronald reached up and touched the hair pulled too tightly at the nape of her neck.

"Are you feeling alright?" She didn't flinch away from him. Severus almost breathed a sigh of relief until he saw a brief look of panic flash across her face.

"Yes, of course I am," she said a little too quickly. Ronald seemed to notice this, too. So the boy wasn't as dim as he thought.

"You don't look well," he commented. "Are you ill?" Everything in Severus wanted to cross the room and pull the nosy boy away from her by the scruff of his neck; a feeling that both stunned and disgusted him.

"Really, Ron, I'm fine. Just-just tired, I think. I was up all night reading and-you know, I may be a bit dehydrated, too but-maybe I am falling ill. I'm fine." Ronald seemed to struggle to keep up with her, and was left looking bemused at the spot where she occupied when she suddenly stepped passed him and sat at the long kitchen table.

She looked as though she may vomit.

"Dinner's ready," Molly called over the voices, and Severus swept in, filled a bowl of stew, and wordlessly put it in front of Hermione. She looked up curiously, but he merely arched an eyebrow at her as though daring her to object.

"Hermione, you look like absolute death. You alright?" Severus looked to the end of the table at Black who was watching her over his goblet with an expression he couldn't describe.

"I'm fine," she said again. Again too quickly. Again he could see her mind working up excuses for any other questions that might be asked. But there was something in the way she pointedly avoided looking at Black. If only he was as skilled a legilimens as he was an occlumens, he could slip into her mind unnoticed and see what she was thinking.

But then she risked a glance toward Black, and her reaction startled everyone at the table. A hand flew to her mouth and she stood, scraping the legs of her chair against the wood floor, flying from the room as quickly as possible.

And he was right on her heels. She barely made it to the stairs before he snatched her by the arm, spun her to face him, and lifted his wand.

" _Legilimens_."


End file.
